


bilious and blithe

by SwingBallBlues



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: AU, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fluff and Mush, M/M, Writer's Block, and yes i'm referring to wonho in the summary lol, anger issues, i'm positive someone will eventually put me in jail for writing so much showho, sexy!shownu, showho, writer!wonho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7489920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwingBallBlues/pseuds/SwingBallBlues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>well, what's a shakespeare in love gotta do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	bilious and blithe

hoseok throws himself back on his armchair, grumbling. he rubs his eyes, only to belatedly realize he's got ink smudged on the pads of his fingers. "fuck," he curses, kicking his leg about in frustration. _nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, why can't i think of anything? look out the windows, they've got something to offer, don't they? there must be something, anything, dark alleyways, a puddle of rain, cats, fucking stray cats—_

the phone rings. he turns to glare at it. rings once, twice, thrice—

"leave me alone," he sighs, defeated. it keeps ringing and the sound of it stabs his eardrums, twists his brains like spaghetti on a fork, and he lets out an angry yell before stomping his heels and picking the damned thing up.

"get out of my hair, please," he says into the phone. "i ate, i really did, swear on my mom, apples and eggs and licked the fucking plate clean," he feels his face heat up as he speaks, poking at the rage outburst sat at the pit of his stomach.

"hoseok," hyunwoo calls lowly, tentatively. he's probably worried. he is. hoseok immediately feels his bitterness at everything in general dissipate into thin air. "you don't sound okay. should i come over?"

_what? no. is he mental? i'm writing something. or at least trying to._

"sure," hoseok says easily, surprising himself. the nerves connecting his brain to his mouth must be impaired or something, jumbled up and crumpled, since he's not saying what he wants to say. or maybe he just misses hyunwoo more than he wants to admit.

"i'll be there in ten, you don't want food, do you?" there are shuffling noises in the background, hyunwoo's probably looking for his car keys. hoseok knows he always forgets where he puts them. they're on the kitchen counter, by the sink next to the little human-totem wood figurines he got from papua new guinea, like they always are. he literally never puts them anywhere else, and it amuses hoseok a little to know but never tell.

"ugh," the thought of shoving another food that would only end up tasting like cardboard down his throat makes his stomach churn. "just you."

hoseok hears hyunwoo laughing softly. "i love you, see you soon." 

"mhm," hoseok mumbles, more to himself and less as a reply he intends it to be. he hangs up and lays back on his chair, looking up at the ceiling. he notices the crown molding and begins searching for words to describe the quiet streets stretched outside his window it reminds him of. he imagines strolling through them, a little tipsy and very much lonely.

the sidewalk is chipped and fractured, and seems to shake whenever the chilling breeze passes it by. dim street lights are scattered along the road, some bent and broken, the rest old and rusty. the glow they give off is eerie, flickering at the slightest hint of movement, and barely managing to keep themselves alive. suddenly there are footsteps following him, firm and loud and matching his pace. the next thing he knows hyunwoo's there, with him, smiling with creases at the corners of his eyes, holding his hand out for hoseok to take. everything is sweet to the touch, soft and delicate and nothing is ever wrong when hyunwoo's there.

_fuck. hoseok you asshat. why are you thinking about him? stop. you wanna write about fear and murders and pain and not fucking rainbows._

hoseok closes his eyes and tries desperately to go into his writing mode again, but the moment is gone. he lets out a whine, getting up on his feet to grab a pack of cigarettes lying by the windowsill. it's a painfully melancholy habit but plenty of times he'd find himself leaning out the window, observing people going on about with their lives from the security of his level-twelve apartment with a cigarette in hand. he'd put the fag between his lips, and let it hang there. he has asthma, though, so he rarely lights it up. when he does, the smoke itself makes his lungs feel tight and, ironically, alive. he likes to think that it helps him write. he'd shut his eyes as he takes a drag, and it sort of feels like he's floating. then the words come. sometimes they don't, and he'd loathe himself a little bit more.

he takes one out, and brings it to his lips. the strong scent of tobacco reaches his nose and it's so familiar, sweet and flavorful and it's almost enough, the fact that it's there in his hand and he could just light it and take a hit whilst watching the tip glowing softly.

hoseok bites his lip and thinks better of it, putting the cigarette back into its pack. it's not worth the coughing fit, and definitely not worth hyunwoo's lecture. back to the fat mouse stuck between the storm drain bars then.

a few silent moments later he hears the buttons outside his apartment being punched in and then the low creaking of the door. _fuck._ he's forgotten to change his password. again.

"i thought you said you didn't want me inviting myself in anymore," hyunwoo half-yells from the walk-in living room, eyeing the whole apartment. even if hoseok's in a writer's block and could inflict pain on a harmless animal without a lick of a care, he's managed to keep the place spotless. he can't think clearly when it's untidy, there's a storm going on in his own head already and he just can't afford another mess to clean up. 

"you should change your password or i'd start thinking otherwise."

hoseok groans. "fuck off, hyunwoo," he can feel the side of his head throbbing slightly, his migraine threatening to make an appearance. hyunwoo figuratively slapping him up the face with his sarcastic remarks is definitely not what he needs right now. 

hoseok nicks himself a swift once-over, mentally smacking himself when he realizes he's dressed only in a three year old baggy tee and boxers. the oversized shirt slides off one shoulder easily, exposing the pale skin underneath. he chooses to ignore the way his collarbones jut out angrily, reminding him of all the meals he'd skipped. he doesn't bother styling his unkempt blonde locks before storming off the room with a pout.

"i hate you, why are you here, get out, you know the drill," he announces, his arms crossed before his chest.

hyunwoo, who's made himself comfortable on hoseok's lawson couch, smiles nonchalantly up at him. if there's a comment about hoseok's lack of clothing, he's not the one to say since he's in a loose camouflage tank and ripped shorts himself. "then you know i'm not leaving until you feel better," he says. he brings his legs together and then pats his vacant lap. "come here, c'mon."

the way hyunwoo says it, like it's so casual, like he's not about to manhandle him, makes hoseok feel terribly sheepish. despite the red creeping its way to his face, he finds his feet moving on their own accord all the same, closer and closer to hyunwoo's inviting arms. as soon as he sits down on hyunwoo's legs, the older embraces him and pulls him into a hug, one hand guiding his head so it rests perfectly on the curve between his neck and his shoulder and the other slowly stroking his back.

it feels _embarrassingly_ good. hyunwoo's breath is tickling his ear, and he smells incredible, like mint and some other fresh herb and he's so so warm and how is that even possible? 

"what is it?" hyunwoo mutters, his voice slightly muffled by hoseok's hair.

hoseok can't raise his head. he's too ashamed to meet hyunwoo's eyes, and annoyingly, too comfortable.

"what is it this time?" hyunwoo asks again, squeezing hoseok's bare shoulder. the direct skin-to-skin contact makes hoseok's insides feel like they're melting.

hoseok takes a deep breath. "i wanna be scared but i'm not, i can't," he finally confesses. his hands are now busy clinging to hyunwoo's sides, feeling the warm skin under his open palms.

"hmmm," hyunwoo hums, and the vibration sends a shiver down hoseok's spine, making him blush. "scared of what? is someone following you? trying to kill you? or is it ghosts this time?"

hoseok grins. _as if i would ever write about the fucking supernatural._

"i did something bad and i know i'm going to pay for it," he muses.

"and...?"

hoseok lets out a long, dramatic sigh and snuggles closer to hyunwoo's neck. "and i don't know. i know _i'm_ gonna die but i can't even begin to— i can't write fast enough, the words are running and i have to get them down, but i'm not fast enough so they're gone. it feels like i'm in a race and i'm slowing myself down."

hyunwoo silently slides a hand into hoseok's hair, pressing his fingers against his sensitive scalp. hoseok bites back a gasp when he feels hyunwoo start massaging slowly. 

_oh my fuck. do not moan do not moan do not please please._

"remember the nightmares you used to have?"

_yes. nightmares. think about nightmares. what nightmares? fuck._

"which- which one?" hoseok stammers. it's getting harder and harder to think when hyunwoo's touching him like this.

hyunwoo takes his time by running his hand through each strand of hoseok's hair, flexing and relaxing his fingers to leave firm presses on hoseok's skull.

_oh my god that feels so good fuck._

"the one where you're trapped in a fire whilst having an episode?" hyunwoo furrows his brows. he sensibly locks an arm around hoseok's waist, securing him in place like a shock blanket.

"you used to call me at like, three, sobbing? remember?" hyunwoo's voice is low and careful, like he's testing the waters. the nightmares weren't pretty, and neither was hoseok after them. he'd wake up soaked in his own tears and sweat, panicking and on the verge of a flare up, alone.

hoseok closes his eyes and lets the dream play back in his head.

"i woke up screaming for help. i couldn't breathe, i needed my inhaler. i wasn't burning just yet but i felt pain blooming bright behind my eyes, whiting out my vision. i was dying. i died," hoseok says, wincing slightly at his own choice of words. he remembers being awfully petrified, and remembers hyunwoo's voice calming him down through his whimpering and failing breaths. hyunwoo never sounded very composed himself, too, but hoseok would focus only on how his voice rose and fell melodically, like a singer's would, assuring him, ' _it's okay, hoseok, you're okay, you're safe. i'm here,_ ' even though he wasn't. it worked, somehow.

hyunwoo kisses the top of hoseok's head. "that's it," he says with a smile, pulling hoseok away gingerly so he can look him in the eye. "that's your story. but it's not a fire. it's another man dressed in a long coat with a glock 27 in his hand. he's a cop, you see, but there's a huge travel bag at the passenger's seat of his convertible for the money you stole. you do the rest."

it's so easy when hyunwoo says it. it's so easy when he's there. maybe that's why hoseok's been struggling all day, he can only think _hyunwoo hyunwoo hyunwoo_ and hyunwoo's smile and hyunwoo's biceps and hyunwoo's voice and it just wouldn't stop like a fever he can't sweat out. now that he's around, the words are, too, painted in hoseok's eyelids like a placid ripple in a stream. he doesn't have to run anymore.

hoseok can't help but crack a face-tearing smile. "are you the author, now?"

"why, you think i'm a competition?" 

"are you?"

hyunwoo laughs, prodding a finger into hoseok's chest. "you have a book to write," he says. "get your laptop here and i'll kiss you while you do."

_bye-bye mental block bitch._

and it's easy because hyunwoo's there. hoseok's fingers drum on the keyboard relentlessly, the thought of placing a cigarette between them long abandoned. hyunwoo's sitting on the floor next to him, kissing his shoulder whilst brushing his knee with his fingertips. the TV volume's pitched so low it's almost inaudible from where they're sitting, but it doesn't matter.

by the time hoseok's typed the last few words for his eighth page, hyunwoo's fallen asleep, his plush lips parted slightly.

hoseok leans in and leaves kitten licks across his jawline. "hey."

hyunwoo chuckles groggily, sitting up and rubbing the sleepiness off of his eyes. "hey," he kisses hoseok's cheek, "where are you?"

"here. with you."

"no, hoseok, where are _you?_ "

_oh._

"bologna. in my cobbled motel," hoseok smirks.

"what're you doing?" hyunwoo's smiling too, now.

"loading my gun."

"am i there?"

hoseok cups hyunwoo's neck and kisses him. it tastes like sleep and he can only think _hyunwoo hyunwoo hyunwoo_ and it's perfect. maybe he'll tell him later that he's his muse. maybe he'll tell him now. he pulls away on cloud nine, unable to contain his giddiness.

"of course you are," hoseok says. and 76,000 words later, he still is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> apparently wonho's real name is "lee hoseok" & he's older than shownu but i'm still in denial and will always be


End file.
